PT2 and really just beginning!

The magical, steel blue torchlight burned around him…tempting his austere, flavorless expression to slacken as he listened to the verdicts of his ‘peers’. He had seen this played out many times before but the words rang out with the harsh clarity of a fresh experience as if he were a young elf again….scolded by his mother for doing what he knew he should not have.

“You have desecrated the sacred teachings of our fathers...” “…introduced vial evil…” “You are banished forthwith!!!” The words lifted into a crescendo of segmented shouts, only ending as a gavel struck its course…the final nail in the coffin of an already steal ridden box.

It was always then that he woke up, cold and clammy from the reoccurring vision of the past; not even his…. The hearth still offered defiant warmth against Winterspring’s unending chill. It mattered little. The wind blew where it willed and closed doors or bright flames never seemed to hinder its path. He sat there for a moment, recounting and recollecting his scattered thoughts.

‘Hundreds of miles from home and the ghosts of it still find me’, he thought to himself. He lifted himself from his bed, brushing aside the coverings that kept him warm. He dressed himself slowly for the day to come. It was hours before the siege of night would be broken.

A knock broke him from his tired trance. He opened the door to a small dwarven woman looking up at him with impatience in her gaze. She wore her fiery red hair in a bun, always. With a brief smile she invited herself into the room, carrying the day’s provisions as well as a hefty breakfast. “I was just ‘bout t’wonder if ye’d be getting ‘round t’day or not”, she said in her thick accent as she placed the food on the parchment riddled table. She glared at the young elf for a moment, “I thought I told ye t’clean up ‘round here?” She huffed. Not waiting for an answer she went about collecting all the papers and scrapings from the elf’s various note taking sessions.

“Please…”, was all he managed to get out before wisdom told him to just shut up and let the woman go. She didn’t take long, all the while threatening to use the stray papers she found next time as kindling.

By the time he managed out of the small building it was nearly dawn. He was still far too inexperienced for this place…but what secrets he had found were well worth the danger. Today was the day. He felt it within him…on the air…in the ground beneath his feet. Something big was going to happen. Leaving light footprints behind him in the crystalline snow, he began off.

He had taken the path to the owlkins many times before. With each day he learned to disguise his presence…even shifting forms and stalking very near them. It was on the eve before last that he had stumbled upon ruins and a giant azure crystal. ‘These were secrets…powerful secrets’ he told himself, recalling the sketches he had made almost every hour afterwards.

‘It was just over this ridge,’ continuing with his thoughts. He stalked towards the ruins in his recently learned cat form. Greeting him at the crest of the snowy ridge was a chilling display. A troll had stumbled into the owlkin encampment and, by the looks of the encounter, stirred the entire area. Owlkins scrambled towards the unfortunate troll, calling down celestial beams of powerful light. Each beam slammed down upon the wary troll, finally bringing him to his knees before the crowd of angry creatures tore him limb from limb.

Mohryn set his jaw tightly, watching with morbid horror at the gruesome scene that continued to unfold. He was unaware, in his shock, of the presence behind him. It wasn’t until the melodic voice echoed in his mind that he realized…

“It is not your time, little one, to learn all that there is here. Go now, and follow the voice of the wind…”

The presence passed over him like the tide of the sea. It washed over his body and through it until it completely engulfed him and the owlkins. It was the embodiment of peace that allowed him to escape back to the small roadway south. It was not until years after that he heard that voice again…

“Follow the voice of the wind….?” He asked himself in disbelief. It was there amidst the graceful yet chilling breeze of Winterspring that he heard his answer.

“Yes, I know what the hell I’m doing!! What do you take me for, a witless child?!” It was a voice very unfamiliar and distant but held the melodic tones of a woman. Still in cat form he looked about for the woman but found nothing but drifting snow.

“There’s no use of destructive magic within the gates of Stormwind, Miss…” More voices melded within the bellow of the now constant breeze. Where were these voices coming from??? He franticly looked around, trying to grasp unto anything real…”Unhand me! It’s not destructive…it’s just…a new spell.”

He changed forms and looked back to the owlkin encampment…now at peace. The voices fell with the calming of the wind but it did little to stem his confusion. He ran back to his small lodging all the while recounting what he had heard.

“Stormwind….magic. What is all this?” He had half a notion to check what the dwarven woman packed, fearing poison as retribution for his mess making. He unfurled a map once in his room and found the word Stormwind. He tapped the map in rhythmic thought. ‘Follow the voice of the wind….’ What a crazed thought. Stormwind was a big place and what would he find…anything? Why should he go in the first place? With little to nothing to gain or lose he made ready for the long journey ahead…for better or worse he would follow his fate.